


Officers don't suffer from neurasthenia Mr Holmes

by i_am_mycroft_holmes



Category: Regeneration - Pat Barker, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I suppose it is a cross over, I was bored and this was written for the 100 years since the beginning of WW1, Mycroft-centric, Neurathenia, Shell Shock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:54:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_mycroft_holmes/pseuds/i_am_mycroft_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suppose this is a cross-over between Regeneration and Sherlock, with Sassoon being replaced with Mycroft. It's just an experiment for me. You can see how it turned out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Officers don't suffer from neurasthenia Mr Holmes

Neurasthenia; the diagnosis was simple and whilst he’d be more than delighted to argue with it, he knew his declaration was the cause of this all. He would have to go to Craiglockhart or be court-martialled. The latter option did not appeal to him, there was a way back from madness, there was no return from being a pacifist. On the slightly more pleasant side of this situation was that he no longer had to endure hours of bombing, or the stench of rotting flesh in the trenches.

He was being sent to Craiglockhart for a reason, and that reason was Dr William Rivers. The man had a success rate of 98% and a low relapse rate, the perfect choice then, to change the mind of a soldier against the war. He felt a little apprehension at the thought of spending the war away from his men, but nothing compared to the fear he felt when he was in the trenches, where every minute could have been his last. _Will they be alright without me?_ His hand lifted slightly to pull on a thread where his Military Cross had been he’d got that for helping his men. They had always been his main concern, and were so even now.

He arrived at the hospital in the rain, and the miserable weather dampened his spirits more than simply looking at the large grey stone building. _Imposing and slightly threatening, you should fit right in._ He looked around for a moment at the bleak landscape before running up the steps out of the rain. He was met just inside the door by Dr Rivers, who took his bag and coat to relieve Mycroft of his load. “T-thank you.” He said softly, glancing at the soldiers around. _In a worse shape than I am, although that should have been expected. I’m not insane._ He followed Dr Rivers up a flight of stairs and into a large, warm office with relatively comfortable chairs, and tea was set out on the desk. “I thought I was being sent due to insanity, not to have tea with a doctor.” Mycroft said, although it was as light-hearted as he dared be.

Tea with Dr Rivers was something of a luxury compared to the trenches… Of course, there had been tea there, but it was weak, lukewarm and not accompanied by sugar or milk. Nor the little cakes that he had been offered a moment ago. He kept his head down, his posture more attributed to shyness than the hunched over posture he’d seen in soldiers downstairs. His hands hadn’t shaken at all whilst adding sugar and milk, or whilst drinking. He put the empty cup and saucer down on the desk after a few minutes, mostly as Rivers spoke after starting to read his file.

“Taking unnecessary risks is one of the first signs of war neurosis Mr Holmes, and hallucinations and nightmares come later. Do you want to talk about the hallucinations?”

Mycroft’s brow furrowed slightly. “I didn’t know it was one of the signs,” He began. “Well, when I wake up, the nightmares, they don’t always stop. I used to see corpses, people treading on their faces in the middle of London. It stopped after I left the hospital.”

He watched Rivers take a note of that before the other spoke once again. - “You threw away your MC. You must have been in agony when you did that.”

A soft smile, thoughtful and yet sad crossed Mycroft’s face as he regarded the doctor opposite him with a little amusement.

“No, no. Agony’s lying in a crater in the middle of no-man’s land with your leg shot off. I was upset… I don’t believe I deserve the medal if I desert my men and leave them without a competent leader.”

He fell silent, observing Rivers reading over his notes, quite a large pile for a mere officer in the army. Although he suspected many pages were because of his declaration. He finally spoke. “You don’t think I’m mad do you?”

Rivers stood with Mycroft after there was a knock on the door. “I don’t even think you’re suffering from war neurosis. I believe that you have a rather powerful anti-war neurosis.” A pause. “You realise it is my job to change that though.”

Mycroft inclined his head slightly with a chuckle, showing he understood, although he found the idea that someone could change his mind most amusing. He walked away and let Rivers deal with another patient. Now he just had to amuse himself until teatime.


End file.
